Post navigation

Murder by poison

Here we are at Christmas/Hannakah, and look! Here is the story I promised: a whistleblower, an attempted murder, a life saved. You’ll tell me it was all imagination, and true, nothing can be proved, but the point is . . . I urge you always: follow your Intuition, that “still small Voice of God.” It may save your life. I wish I had the ability to add a photo of the cover of the book, but I don’t know how. He refers to A BOOK OF ANGELS, available on Amazon both in print and on kindle: This item:A Book of Angels: Reflections on Angels Past and Present, and True Stories of How They Touch Our L… by Sophy Burnham Paperback $11.72.

Dearest Mrs. BURNHAM!

I’ve just read your delicious and very interesting book about angels: it was splendid & marvelous because it is true! We’re all in connection with the spiritual dimension at any time & at any place: the spirits & angels are on our side, guarding us & protecting us & surrounding us! Fifteen years ago I had a life-saving experience through my personal guardian angel as I went through a very difficult, bad patch. I worked in a Dutch-Belgian firm, and I was very unhappy. I was suffering from [subject to] harassment in this modern & established workplace!

Precious tools for the production unit that I had to take care of continuously & systematically disappeared, and it seemed a bit suspicious to me, just as it did to other colleagues who–most of them–suspected me of having stolen them! We all became suspicious of one another, but I was suspect number 1, because I was the new “talent” in this firm. . .

One day I discovered and almost exposed my chief ‘s involvement, but I said nothing, because I wasn’t in a position to give proper proof of his guilt.

The result of this miserable event was that this superior–it sounds absurd, but everything I say is true–I think he wanted me killed.

The following week, on Monday the 12th November 2001, I went, unsuspecting, to work as usual. He himself did not have contact with me, but instead played the innocent, as I understood later, with women colleagues giving him whatever alibis he might need after my death…

Roberto, in charge of one machine, was from Sardinia, talked very friendly and very pleasantly to me, so that I never suspected him of ever hurting me. At lunch, he left me in the cafeteria to go back to his work, but soon he came back carrying a file that I was to take at once to his machine. I was surprised. I told him that I’d already done it but he insisted on my doing my job. Again.

Fool that I was, I agreed to his request. It was a long way to his machine, and I left my dinner on the table with my cup of tea. He didn’t care to walk with me to his machine, but went instead to talk to this “master-chief” about something. But when I came to his machine, I found all the things that he had asked me to bring right there already at his machine stand: Everything in order. I had been tricked by him.

Back to the cafeteria, I told him that everything he had asked me to deliver was already there: he nodded foolishly and went off with no explanation for this weird behavior. As I sat down at my table to return to my meal and lemon-tea with sugar, I suddenly became suspicious.

I stood up with my cup and plate of food, and, acting as if drinking & eating it all, I went to a separate room reserved for smokers, and there I threw it all away in the garbage can. But I cleaned my cup two times with running water, and refilled it again with tea, to go on with really drinking this “new tea” in the same cup.

Afterwards I was assigned to a big tool in the neighborhood of Roberto, who kept asking how I was feeling. “How are you?” I told him: “I’m fine, thanks!” The third time, as he asked me, “Com’ esta?” he looked close in my eyes while I answered in a strange deep wobbly voice: “Molto Bene!!”

He laughed then and disappeared!

But not to get any help.

I felt unsteady, my voice was wobbly, and I felt very dizzy. I managed to reach the toilets, and there I let go my bowels like a horse. Afterwards I drank two liters of milk in the empty cafeteria. And then I closed my computer and stole away without speaking to anyone. I walked on foot to the cops in the heavy Belgian rain, but without proof and without witnesses, what could be done? I knew what had happened, but I had no case.

Thanks to God, I’m still alive and kicking, though without a job: not now, never again.

God bless you! Always trust your intuition and telepathy. I have never tried to write my story. It’s too much like a John Grisham novel, but it happened to me as I say.